


Heart's Having a Hard Time

by Bexinthecity247



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pain, Sadness, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 20:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17752916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247
Summary: She hated parties. No, she didn’t. She used to love them, now however, Louisa couldn’t stand them. So many things had been ruined for her lately; driving, sunsets, circuses…





	Heart's Having a Hard Time

**Author's Note:**

> Drunk Louisa seemed a little out of character to me but I loved the idea so...

She hated parties. No, she didn’t. She used to love them, now however, Louisa couldn’t stand them. So many things had been ruined for her lately; driving, sunsets, circuses… And yet somehow, she had not only been dragged into a surprise birthday party for Florence but had ended up hosting it when the original plans for the Petrides’ fell through.

It had taken three gins just to get her to the point of being able to deal with people but now the guests were all there, talking, laughing. Enjoying life. And all Louisa was doing was sipping champagne and wine like it was going out of fashion. She was acutely aware that it made for an unattractive, if not pitiful sight. But it was when he appeared in that she downed the glass.

‘Who invited him?’ She said to Theo as he walked past her. He winced at her grip and looked at the man she referred to. He frowned; she and Spiros were such good friends, why would she show such animosity?

 ‘I imagine Doctor Petrides, I don’t understand-’ he started but Spiros was looking around, probably for her and she released Theo, ducking out into the garden. Unfortunately, there was no peace for her there either. Guests, some she didn’t even know, littered her patio lovingly adorned with the fairy lights Spiros had worked so hard to give her many moons ago. The thought made her stomach squeeze and she leaned over the seated guests to grab one of the bottles of wine. How far she’d fallen, but her head was just pleasantly fuzzy enough that the pain in her chest had dulled to a mere thud.

‘Louisa!’ Florence called from the hallway, surrounded by jovial friends and family. Louisa smiled weakly at her, waving before turning away, cradling the bottle in arm. She was sure Florence would be confused but she was beyond caring.  She skirted around the side of the house, avoiding anyone who could stop her and stumbled up the dirt road that connected her house to the town centre. She didn’t bother to look up at the birds singing evensong love sonnets to one another; another thing ruined for her since… She took a shuddering breath and stopped.

‘Oh, shup up!’ she snapped then shuffled off in between the trees. Dusk had started to settle on Corfu like a comfort blanket, but it made her cold. She didn’t see the fallen tree spread out like a natural bench until she’d tripped over it and swore at it. Then, like a dam had burst, she kicked at it, and sobs came out between her shouts. Her chest heaved, and she suddenly felt drained, a hundred years old. With a strained half sob, half gasping breath she sank onto the tree and looked at the wine bottle. She had gone beyond the point of drunken enjoyment and was bordering on desolation and she didn’t know how to get back to the buzzy high. Maybe she was too broken. She uncorked the wine bottle anyway and gulped a mouthful, feeling it wash over her tongue. A cracking branch dragged her head up, the world dancing in front of her. Spiros’ kind face appeared, and she looked up to the sky letting out a laughing sob.

‘Of course,’ she murmured to herself.

‘There you are,’ he said, his hands twisting his hand around and around.

‘Here I am,’ she said with a forced smile. Their glances met and like a magnet Louisa couldn’t turn her head away despite the pain. He broke the gaze and sat beside her, sighing like a man with a heavy weight on his chest. She looked away, eyes watering. Her thumb ran over the rim of the bottle. When she looked back at him, his head was bent looking at his feet and a tear broke free, trickling down her cheek where she left it.

Whether it was the alcohol loosening her tongue or his proximity, she found herself saying, ‘I feel like I’m dying.’

‘Don’t say that,’ he said. His soft tone made the lump in her throat grow. He sounded heartbroken.

‘But I do,’ she said. How much wine had she drunk? ‘I feel like I’m drowning.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. His head tilted towards her. She hiccupped.

‘It’s no one’s fault,’ she said, involuntarily letting out a sardonic laugh. This was the first conversation they’d had in weeks and she’d forgotten how to be around him. She wasn’t even sure she’d remember this conversation in the morning.

‘All I know is two people who were very happy, are now both very sad,’ he said, screwing his hat up.

 Her head started to throb and now the conversation was approaching an area she was unready for. She raised the bottle to her mouth. How uncouth to be drinking straight from the bottle. The respectable woman in her would be ashamed of her. The heartbroken part of her didn’t seem to care. She made an involuntary noise when she pulled the bottle away and Spiros looked from his hat to her slightly flushed face. When she raised it to her mouth again he held out his hand. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her. But he didn’t drink from it. Instead he stood up and launched it with that skilled baseball throw of his. It landed somewhere with a distant smash and she looked at him, mouth agape.

‘What?’ she stuttered. The words wouldn’t materialise from her thick head.

‘You’re drunk,’ he said; it wasn’t condescending but rather, sad. She half laughed, and half sobbed.

‘Well, it is a party.’ She threw her arms up. He wouldn’t turn to face her.

‘I don’t like seeing you drunk, not like this.’ he lamented and at this she stood up, waving her arms around wildly. But the movement made her world spin violently and she began to sway.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ she asked his back. ‘I can’t bear…I can’t bear the pain otherwise.’

He still didn’t turn around.

‘You think I can stand it any less?’ he said in a low tone. They were so fractured, and she missed having him to lean on, even before she’d fallen in love. ‘You think this is what I want?’

She swiped at a nearby branch, pulling the leaves off.

‘I…’ she said, slumping back down onto the tree stump. ‘Love is so hard.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Spiros said. When he finally turned around she saw the tears in his eyes. He never said her name anymore; couldn’t bear to call her “Mrs Durrells” yet couldn’t call her Louisa either. She hung her head down. The world was moving too fast around her like she was on one of the pier rides and her stomach squeezed.

‘Lou-’ he started but she leaned over to the left and vomited. He looked at her with sad eyes and approached her. She retched again but nothing was left besides bile and wine. When she lifted her head back up tears wet her cheeks. He crouched in front of her and gave her his handkerchief. His eyes swam but he had to stay strong for her. She wiped her mouth and clutched the cloth like it was a life preserver. She started crying. He pulled himself up and sat beside her. 

‘Well aren’t I a catch?’ she tried to laugh but it came out pitiful.

‘I hate this,’ Spiros said. Her soft crying turned to heaving sobs she couldn’t control, and he screwed up his eyes. His chest throbbed until he was sure the pain would kill him. He pulled her towards him, cradling her head with one hand, the other rested on her lower back. She clutched his short collar and cried into his neck.


End file.
